Star Wars: Daala's Return
by raptor7435
Summary: Admiral Daala is back. With new allies and "a woman's touch," she plans her domination of the galaxy.
1. The New Daala

The bright orange sphere of a frozen sun filled the endless black skies, coming into view slowly from the farthest right side. It's rays cris-crossed throughout the dark system, hitting nothing and continuing endless, as far as the eye could see. They touched nothing, for this system, like many in the Deep Core of the galaxy, was barren and empty. No planets orbited the lonely star, and its only visitor was a tiny Class VI comet that was still one hundred years away from arriving. The entire area was empty, save a survey number by an outdated cruiser taken over forty standard years ago. With all the quiet, stillness, and calm, things seemed at peace. Save for the plot that was being developed even now in the mind of one human being. Soon this planet wouldn't be known for its emptiness, but for where the next chapter of the future of it's galaxy's people would begin. If only the galaxy for which the frozen sun dwelled wasn't so conflicting, wasn't so infected and corrupted. Politics, diplomacy, peacekeepers. That was what the galaxy had turned to in the end, throughout all the wars and after exploring different choices. There was no strength, no force. Democracy would never work; force was needed to rule over a kingdom, such as a galaxy. "Rule through fear of force rather than by force itself." That was the phrase that would phrase the future, the glorious future, of a united civilization under one ruler. Men had failed numerous times in the past trying to achieve this stunning and palpable goal. Worthless, useless tries. But soon that would change. Order would be established, and out of the ashes of war, a woman, not a man, would rise to take the throne. The same woman that the frozen sun was enveloping in its warming rays as it eclipsed the gray surfaces of the command deck.

Too many times had Grand Admiral Daala Tarkin let men triumph when _she_ could do better. Ruling wasn't an easy task, and men, as far as Daala was concerned, were incapable of ruling correctly. Emperor Palpatine had proven that with his Empire's disastrous defeat at the hands of a pathetic band of politicians and ill-trained officers and soldiers piloting outdated warships and a battered starfighter fleet. He, and his henchmen, that stupid, traitorous Darth Vader, had personally been beat by an amateur Jedi, Luke Skywalker; a farmboy from the barren world of Tatooine. Even more disgusting, the man was beaten twice by the same group of people who had routed him last time, using the same technologies and same warriors, and the same Skywalker...as far as Daala was concerned. Since then, many _men_ had tried to save the Emperor's once glorious Empire. Teradoc had failed. Zsinj had failed. Zaarin had failed, his attempted coup of the Emperor ending in pitifully tragedy. Harrsk had failed. Delvardus had failed. Pellaeon–military ruler of the Imperial Remnant; but nevertheless a weak fool who's own resolve had failed him, expectedly from Daala's new point-of-view on the man, in the end–had failed. Thrawn, the military Chiss genius who Daala still admired despite his death at the hands of his own bodyguard–had failed. Daala's husband, the late, fantastic Grand Moff Wilhuff Tarkin–though he hadn't tried a coup of the Emperor like Zaarin– had failed his brilliant future when he died with his infamous Death Star at Yavin–another example of Palpatine's pitiful Empire. Daala loved Tarkin nonetheless. Bevel Lemelisk had designed the Death Star with a huge weak spot that had been exploited. It wasn't Tarkin's fault that he died. Lemelisk was another imbecile. Nevertheless, all the men that had tried to dominate the galaxy under the name of the Empire, had failed. It didn't matter though. When Daala was ruler of the galaxy, all those failures would be rendered insignificant. Daala's Ruling Dominion would not fail.

But Daala knew her prejudice had a limit for which it grow. Despite her disgust at the numbers, Daala knew that well over sixty percent of current Deep Core population that served her were men. The percentage of men that occupied jobs in the military was well over sixty, somewhere in middle eighty percent. Though she would never openly admit this, but if this master plan were to succeed, it would with the sacrifice and the help of mainly the men under her command. Men were more built than women, were stronger,–though they often times buckled under intimidation and pressure–faster, and were a great deal more intimidating and impressionable than women. Another thing she would never openly admit was that she too, had failed to bring about order to the galaxy and therefore strip it away from the New Republic–now called the Galactic Alliance. She had been defeated almost as many times as the men she had criticized and killed. But that was because of her ignorance. She had underestimated her enemy and it capabilities, especially the capabilities of the Jedi Knights, a mistake she would never make again. Skywalker was powerful, and his band peacekeepers were equally as challenging as the Jedi Master himself. The Alliance itself was a worthy opponent for someone of Daala's genius. Though she despised her common enemy, she had to admit, their recent two-year-old victory over the cunning and vicious Yuuzhan Vong was very impressive, a most notable victory. However, also in Daala's opinion, the Alliance and Skywalker had taken too long. If Daala had been in command from the beginning, the war would have gone much smoother and would have quickly been over. The Alliance had gone about defeating their foe all wrong–which wasn't surprising, since men had been the majority of leaders and high ranking officials and officers– in the end suffering severe casualties and a number of cripple or destroyed navy vessels. The war had made them weak. The leadership of men had made them weak. Weak enough to be beaten by an outstanding foe.

So she stood on the bridge of the new Super Star Destroyer _Scyla II_, a ship built from parts salvaged from Daala's original flagship, the Imperial II Star Destroyer_ Scyla_ as well as numerous other severely damaged Imperial ships and vessels. That, added with polished and brand new manufactured parts from Imperial factories all over the Deep Core, made up the powerful hull, shielding, and weapons of the massive battleship. The woman stood, proud and tall, as the sun enveloped her body and reflected off her long crimson-orange hair. Even as the full sphere of the sun pulled into the whole viewport and lit up the bridge fully with it's radiant beams, Daala stood undaunted, not even squinting at the wave of bright sunlight being shoved into her pupils. She craned her head slightly to glance across the bridge at the people working the consoles and terminals around her and below her. The bridge was large and extended the full width of the command deck. Many people were hard to see. But Daala could easily tell by the number of weak stature's and slouched shoulders that a majority of them were men, and that majority, most of them anyway, were squinting in the powerful sunlight.

Daala snickered at their cowardice. _Weaklings_, she thought. She turned back, defying the sunlight and staring it down with honor and pride. Staring it down gave her a feeling of power, or worth. "When I'm ruler of this galaxy," she whispered to herself, "No one will squint in something so low as sunlight. There will no be no weakling in my order." Daala eyes glinted and she once again ran over her plan to crush the Galactic Alliance and its Jedi Knights. She was basking so much in her brilliance that she didn't even hear the footsteps of one of her numerous subordinates Captain Rammis Mash–another _man_, blast it–approach her from behind. Why were _men_ always promoted to the valuable ranks. Oh yes, Palpatine. If only the idiot hadn't been both sexist and racist, maybe his Empire would have succeeded. If Daala had been rightfully treated, she would have the Rebellion. She would not have lost at Endor like that moron Piett had.

Mash swallowed and stood at attention, waiting patiently for the Grand Admirals notice. Daala didn't give it to him, feeling no motivation to bow to _his_ patience. The two stood alone, each silent, each waiting.

Daala rolled her eyes after another few moments passed. _Idiot man_, she thought.

Mash rolled on his heels and finally spoke. "Grand Admiral Daala–"

"Captain Mash." Daala didn't turn around. "You are an idiot. Next time, get to talking quicker. My attention will only go to you if you want it, not if you make me wait for it. Now what is it? Is the Assembly ready for me yet?" Daala still didn't turn around.

"The shuttle carrying Moff Joffandor has arrived. The Assembly is–"

Again Daala cut him off, rolling her eyes at his lengthy explanation. "'Yes' or 'no' will do Captain."

"My apologies, Admiral–" he started.

Daala raised her chin"'Yes or 'no' Captain!" She half-shouted.

"Yes, ma'am. The Assembly–"

"Good." Daala finally turned around, the sun still flowing around her slim body. She marched forward, stopping abruptly at Mash's side. She locked eyes with, burning her stare into his cowardly brandy-brown eyes. "And Captain Mash," she continued. "If I have to remind you one more time that 'yes' or 'no' will do..." she let the sentence trail off as he watched him swallow in fear. "Impossible," she snickered. "You'll never get it." She sighed irritably, her breath blowing into his face. Walking away, she called after her. "The bridge is yours Mash." She stopped and turned back to him momentarily. "You remember what that means don't you?"

Mash stood to his full heights and opened his mouth to speak. Daala's rage began to swell as she braced for his lengthy explanation on the Grand Admiral's version of Bridge Shifts and Duties of Commanding a Bridge. That meant that Mash was to only watch over the ship. He could nothing else with it but stand guard for it. If the Star Destroyer was threatened by anything, he could, _would do_, nothing at all but wait until the Grand Admiral arrived on the bridge and then he handed the ship over to her. Only if Daala was not on the ship could he do anything defensively with it. The _Scyla II _was her ship, and she expected every officer to treat it as _her_ ship, especially Mash. This man was going to get a severe reprimand for this. Evolution hadn't improved the brains of men of the last one hundred millennia.

Mash made a noise with his vocal cords, but suddenly stopped on the verge of saying the first word of his sentence. His mouth closed for a moment, his mind racing, and then opened again. "Yes," he simply said.

Daala continued moving without another word. Maybe evolution hadn't given up quite yet. Nevertheless, he would still attach a reprimand to Mash. For the delay in his answering.


	2. Moffs

The walk wasn't a far one. The turbolift doors sighed open and Daala stepped in amidst an echo of hard conversation between the eight assorted Moffs and Warlords that made up the Ruling Assembly–_Daala's_ Ruling Assembly.

The conference chamber was a rather large space positioned at the top of a high tower that stretched towards the stars from the middle section of the Super Star Destroyer. The room was broad and wide, ending in an eye-shaped viewport opposite where Daala had entered. Chambers like this often weren't that grand, and this one was no different. It was basically two elongated walls, a viewport, and a roof. A table and its ten chairs next to the eye-like viewport were the only things that seemed to bring at least _some_ liveliness into the dull room. In the original blueprints, this tower was the throne room for Emperor Palpatine. Every Star Destroyer was required to have a throne room included in its design, built into it for the Emperor should he ever come on board. It was, symbolically, a way to monument the late Palpatine. In the days of his Empire, it had been more grandiose than it looked at this moment, supposedly _actually_ reflecting something great in its construction. Now it was simple and boring, an unnoticed pathetic vision of power. But Daala didn't mind. Power was something that couldn't be represented; it could only be used.

Daala proceed down a flight of steps. Her boots clanged loudly on the durasteel floor, completely over-shrouding the sounds of conversation from the Assembly. Slowly, the representatives eyes all fell on her and all the talking ceased, an echo vanishing. She hardly payed to that though, just concentrating on where she was going. Like a businesswomen at a meeting, Daala calmly and proudly marched up to the dias and took her seat at the first, center chair that faced the viewport and its thousand-thousand glimmering stars. She softly gazed at the men and three women around her as they stared, uneasily most of them, back at the Grand Admiral. Daala straightened her formal white uniform, letting the uneasiness settle for a moment.

She pulled a lock of her long hair off of her face and began. "I'm going to dispense with the pleasantries today. They're pointless."

"My plan is this. The destruction of the Galactic Alliance through military force." She looked into the jungle-green eyes of her oldest and most trusted friend, Moff Selena, the former Lieutenant aboard the Star Destroyer _Gorgon _who was now the headstrong governess of an industrial sector known as the Assolist. "And through its own civil war." Daala smirked at the murmur that ensued that sentence. She stood up again and walked towards the right wall of the dias to a hidden panel that only the Assembly and Daala knew about. She pressed a glowing red tile on the inside of the panel. A huge portion of the wall swung open and up, and an obsidian-tinted monitor moved out.

The monitor turned bright flickering to life. A picture of the entire Known Galaxy appeared, with several Core worlds like the bruised ex-Imperial Center Coruscant, ship-building centers Kuat and Corellia, along with Fondor, Duro, and three other worlds, tagged with the crest and stars of the Galactic Alliance. The rest of the pictured galaxy had numerous tags throughout dozens of assorted different planets from all the regions–the Colonies, the Expansion Region, Mid-Rim, Outer Rim. One, a planet called Kamino, was even outside the Outer Rim–the more notable one being Mon Calamari, the planet that had been the headquarters of the Galactic Alliance during the latter half of the Yuuzhan Vong War. Other planets included Sluis Van, Naboo, Nam Chorios of the Meridian Sector, and Yavin Four, the jungle moon that was the former site of Luke Skywalker's Jedi Academy. Though all the planets tagged were scattered across the galaxy, all of them presented hefty targets, like the shipyards of Kuat and Sluis Van, the strategic placing of Borleias and fellow Colonies Region world Commenor, and Brentaal, the planet that the Perlemian Trade Route and the Hydian Way, one a major trade lane and the other a major hyperspace lane, intersected at. And, of course, Skywalker's beaten Jedi Academy planet. Daala had tagged a significant amount of important worlds–except that one Kamino. All of the Moffs and Warlords in the Assembly knew exactly what this was–an invasion plan. Daala was going to try what so many others–including Vader and Palpatine–had tried. Total conquer of the galaxy.

But how? Certainly not with the weak force she commanded.

From the other end of the table, Warlord Foga Brill stared thoughtfully at the beautiful Grand Admiral. What was she up to?

Daala clasped her hands behind her back. "The Yuuzhan Vong war has been won for nearly two standard years now. The victors were, of course, the Galactic Alliance: if you care to call a peace treaty victory. Nevertheless, the Alliance won. But the win has weakened them. Severely." She toggled the control panel, and the monitor responded by zooming in on two dozen systems in the Bajos sector. Highlighted in orange were numerous squadrons of Daala's Dominion fleet. "Enough for them to be taken advantage of." Daala pressed two more buttons on the panel, and the monitor switched pictures again, this time focusing on the snow and ice world of Bakar III, a rogue planet–that is, a planet that doesn't belong to a sun–that was on the border of the Core and Deep Core regions of the galaxy, and one of the areas that the New Republic–now the Galactic Alliance–frequently patrolled, keeping the Imperials in the Deep Core in check and being the first line of defense should the Empire attack from there. "A significant amount of Alliance front line ships were lost in the first years of the war, and the reserve fleets suffered severe casualties, which is no surprise to me," she took a moment to bask in the pity she had for Alliance, then continued. "Anyway, as a result of the reserve's losses, Alliance Defense instilled many of its border defense ships into the front lines and reserves. And they left barely anything behind except a few petty starfighters to keep a 'skeleton' watch on our borders." Daala paused and grinned. "Those petty starfighters are still there. The Alliance hasn't had the resources to replace those ships yet, and it leaves the borders of the Deep Core open for invasion. And we are more than ready in my opinion. Chief of State Cal Omas has chosen to devote all resources to reparations and rebuilding. A fool's choice. One should never ignore one's former enemies." Her eyes circled the room slowly. "Old enemies have a tendency to resurface when you don't need them."

Selena grinned at her friend. "Especially old enemies that are said to have been killed-in- action."

Daala nodded. "Yes. Our preemptive staging area will be here at Bakar III," she said, gesturing to the monitor. Daala hesitated in disgust. "We attack as soon as we are ready. The target will be the sixth moon of the planet Resad, which houses a branch of the DCBH."

The DCBH was the Deep Core Border Headquarters of the Alliance.

As expected, another murmur drifted throughout the crowd. Amongst only the men though. The three women at the table, Moff Selena, Warlord Terret, and Moff Kuresca simply exchanged glances and smiles. Daala had already informed them, her circle of trust as it were, of her _complete_ plan, only a fraction of that was she telling the Assembly right now. The murmur escalated, which disgusted Daala even more. Another property of men that she was sick of.

It was Warlord Brill that finally spoke over the murmurs and the noise to address the Grand Admiral. "Will all due respect Admiral–"

"Grand Admiral," Daala sharply corrected him, even though that wasn't right. She'd correct him properly later.

If Brill housed any anger for that correction, he didn't show it. "My apologies Grand Admiral. With all due respect, how do you know this attack will be successful? Can you safely say that?" He shook his head. "The Alliance may be weakened, but one-third of their remaining forces could certainly topple us. If they mount a counterstrike, they will blow us away easily–"

Daala interrupted. "Tell me, is force, power, and territory the only three things you _ever_ think about?" She chuckled smartly. "That's why your predecessors failed. They only cared about having the most planets, or the most subjects, or the best navy, or the best army. It's spiteful. Order can only be established through careful planning, stealth, and strategy–"

A loud, cackling laugh rang throughout the chamber. Daala recognized it instantly as the repulsive, spitting laugh of fifty-year old _toad_ Moff Ferriz Joffandor, who shared the ruling rights of Bullrerrit sector, very unhappily, with the women sitting across from him, Moff Worfin. Joffandor's chest heaved up and down as he cackled, and his floppy white hair looked as if it was going to bounce off his head. He playfully scratched the feathers of his pet mooka on his shoulder. The chubby man sat up in his seat and humorously stared at Daala.

"Planning and stealth are 'strategies'"–he cackled again–"of the Rebels. Are you trying to turn us into a band of pirates?" He looked up dreamily, eyes wide. "I could be Captain Galaxy, the universes greatest champion Panthien." He gestured at Daala. "And I would be your loyal sidekick, Star Admiral Wellington." He grinned and flashed his brows at Daala.

The whole Assembly laughed, save the female members.

Daala's anger rose. She could feel her hand wanting to reach for the blaster at her belt. The temperature in her body rose significantly, she could feel it. To be compared to that witch...

What Joffandor had referred to was the story of Star Admiral Wellington, a beautiful human female who commanded the most formidable and, curse the cosmos, _friendly_ fleet of Dreadnaughts in the whole universe, and her second in command and sidekick Captain Galaxy, the champion Panthien–a darkly handsome and pretty species that dwelled on one of the moons of Elrood–who also was the Star Admiral's husband. Officially called _The Adventures of_ _Star Admiral Wellington and Captain Galaxy_, the book was a tradeoff of the Old Republic. Parents usually read it to their kids when they were between the ages of two-to-six standard years of age. During the time of the Old Republic, it was the closest thing the people of the galaxy could have to a classic story. However, when the New Order was established under Palpatine, the story fell of the headway when the Emperor had it changed to support Imperial propaganda. _Cadet_ Wellington–women were as equally as persecuted as aliens in Palpatine's Empire, and couldn't be promoted beyond Lieutenant unless by Palpatine himself–was changed to a loyal servant–both in service and in private, adding on to Daala's hate of Palpatine when she read the new version–to _Star Admiral_ Galaxy, a loyal Grand Moff of the Empire that now commanded the _second_–Palpatine's was the first–"most formidable and _powerful_"fleet of _Star Destroyers _in the entire universe. Daala didn't care to much for the story. It was basically a copy of an old Jedi Knight's diary. Palpatine hadn't bothered to change that, save the parts about the benefits of peace and democracy. Only when Daala had read the part about Wellington, the hero of the story, being a slave and _enjoying_ it had she been completely outraged.

Which made her anger against Joffandor rise ten times as it was before.

Daala's eyes lit ablaze with fury. "Planning, stealth, and strategy," she forced between her gritted teeth. "Has always been the best way." She let her anger subside for a moment to smartly address him. "The Rebels used planning, stealth, and strategy against Palpatine's Empire." She leaned forward strongly. "Guess who won the Galactic Civil War? The Rebels." Daala took extreme pleasure in watching Joffandor's expression turn sour. "Thank you for your marvelous patriotism to my cause, Ferriz," Daala nodded. She let her anger return. In a instant, her blaster was out of its holster and in her side where she kept it as she talked. Joffandor's mooka darkened its eyes in anger and growled at Daala "The next time you choose to attack my plans, remember what this looks like." She nodded to Moff Kuresca, who proceeded to grab Joffandor's shoulder and hold the man down in his chair. Her powerful arms were more than enough to keep the fat man locked in his chair. Moff Selena calmly smiled her support for her Daala and sidestepped out of the way. Joffandor struggled, fruitlessly, in Kuresca grasp. His mooka immediately turned around on its hind legs and growled a warning at her.

"W-wait, w-what are you–?" Joffandor stuttered. "Grand Admiral, please, I didn't mean to–no. Daala no–" he pleaded.

Now having a clear target, Daala took aim. Warlord Brill ducked his head, and Daala fired a hot shot at full power. Joffandor closed his eyes, awaiting his end. The orange bolt snapped across the room in under a second. However, Daala hadn't aimed for him. She didn't want to do what everyone was expecting her to do when she pulled out the blaster. So instead, she had aimed for and now hit the mooka on his shoulder. The tiny, helpless animal was hit with so much power and energy that it burst apart, bloodily, into a thousand tiny pieces of flesh, bone, and feathers. The blood splattered all over Joffandor's face, chest and back, washing the fat man thoroughly in the pus-colored liquid. Kuresca had taken her hands away when Daala had fired and backed away in a hurry, but still managed to get three smudges of mooka blood on her tunic. But unlike Joffandor, who was violently trying to wipe the blood off his face with a cloth, Kuresca simply smiled calmly and took her seat with a nod to Daala.

Daala re-holstered her blaster and stood at her full height. "I aimed for the animal Ferriz, don't worry. Though I don't consider you any better than a mooka."

Joffandor glared back at her for a moment, but then changed the expression to one of apology. "I'm sorry, Grand Admiral. Using stealth and secrecy is not a strategy I'm used to and–"

Daala re-aimed her blaster at him. The toadish Moff practically flattened himself against the back of his chair. "No!" he pleaded.

Daala glared fire back at him. "Don't lie to me, Joffandor," she snapped. "You're bad at it. You just wanted to voice your opinion, to give your three credits. I know this because I've seen it done before dozens of times around you men. If you spent half the time thinking then you do boasting your opinions like gluttons, your attempts at power might work."

Joffandor was amazingly persistent. "Your attempts failed too, Daala!"

Daala's anger rose once again, and her muscles tensed and tightened around the blaster's handle. She spent a moment breathing through her gritted teeth, but relaxed after the next. But she couldn't take much more of this treasonous defiance. "My attempts failed because I was ignorant to some facts. I didn't know the power the New Republic had and it ended up being my undoing. I admit that openly. My ignorance was my defeat, but not this time. This time I'm being careful. Yes it looks like a plan the Rebel Alliance used which is why it's the best plan. If your can't beat an enemy your way, then beat them their way. Got it?"

Joffandor didn't look satisfied, nor convinced. Normally, as she had done with much of this Assembly's predecessors, Daala would simply have killed him and be done with it. But she needed his support and his army and navy. She'd make him pay for his insubordination later. "You don't look convinced Joffandor. That's because your not used to this type of plan. Well that's too bad. I know what you want to do, though. You want to conquer your way, the way you _men_ have been trying to do it for the last thirty years. You know what I'm talking about, gathering all the ships you possibly can and then smashing into Republic space, guns blazing. It has never worked and it probably never will, even now."

Daala gave him one last glare and stepped back towards the monitor. "Now if you would let me finish, I'll explain everything in due time." She made sure everyone, including Joffandor, was paying attention before continuing. "When we destroy the base at Resad, we will immediately–_immediately_–move on to the next target: a communications center on the planet Wullund. The result should be a communications blackout in five. Once that is destroyed, our ships will be able to move the entire fleet out of the Deep Core."

Warlord Brill stroked his beard in thought. But wasn't foolish enough–either that, or he was a coward–to question Daala's plan. It sounded like a decent plan. If he only knew what Daala's real goal was. Moff Tethys was much bolder.

"And we just keep moving on, from base to base? Destroying one and then moving on to the next?"

"You make it sound easy" Joffandor commented.

"Yes. It should be." Daala answered sternly. "We will destroy them in a selected path that will lead the fleet directly to the planet Kamino." She gazed and nodded at the tag on the beyond-the-Outer-Rim world of Kamino.

"How will we do that?" Tethys asked. "The Alliance will track us easily. They will catch up to us."

Now feeling more comfortable to speak, Brill sat up. "And what's so important about this planet Kamino?" He pointed to the tag on the monitor. "It doesn't look like anything important."

Daala raised a stern eyebrow at him. "Kamino is probably the most important planet in my entire operation."

"Why?"

"Because my army–the one that will conquer every planet in the Alliance–is being built and trained there."

"Yourarmy is being _built_?" Warlord Talpoldar, the newest and youngest member of the Assembly said from the far right curve of the table.

Daala smiled confidently. "Yes. The Kaminoans are cloners by trade, so yes, the word 'built' can be applied to their job. The armies that fought the Clone Wars were built and trained on Kamino. And now my army is being built and trained."

"A clone army?" Moff Corls, former governor of the Corellian Trade Spine, asked from behind Moff Kuresca. "Wasn't that Thrawn's idea?"

"That's where I got it from," Daala responded. "His army was the most powerful of any of the past Imperial armies, and it conquered a lot of New Republic territory in its time."

"It's an intriguing proposal," Moff Selena said, smiling at Daala as a joke, mocking Corls. The four–Daala, Selena, Kuresca, and Terret–had already been informed of and had discussed phase one of Daala's plan before the Assembly's meeting even began. They were the insiders of the thirteen member government.

"But don't clones take time to be born and grow?" asked Moff Worfin, one of the few Moff's who had been on the original Moff Assembly before Daala had...resigned most of the Assembly's original members. "They're like ordinary beings."

"Not these types of clones. The Kaminoans alter their clones' genetic patterns, adding in a gene sequence that gives the clones a shorter life span. They grow a two times the rate of normal beings. A decent army can be formed within nine-to-ten years."

A murmur of amazement danced its way through the Assembly. Daala smirked. _Now I have their full attention_.

"I see," Warlord Foga Brill said, a little chuckle in his voice. He knew. Looking straight up at Daala, he asked, "And how long ago did you order the creation of your new clone army?

"Nearly fifteen years ago. Shortly after I killed Harrsk, Delvardus and that whole event. My link to the Kaminoans has informed me that army is now 970,000 strong with one-point-five million on the verge of completion." Daala's eye surveyed the Assembly. "Ladies and gentlemen," she hesitated, catching herself before she said the word "I." "We will have the greatest army that this galaxy has ever seen."

A long pause ensued the Admiral's words. Daala noticed many members exchange looks; some looks of fear, some looks of caution. And some looks triumph and confidence, which also could be referred to as treasonous looks. It was nothing to be worried about. Daala had known practically from the beginning about the friendships that some members of the Assembly–like Moff Tethys and Warlord Brill–had amongst themselves. She could tell what most of them were thinking at that very instant. An army practically two million strong would be a nice asset for one to have.

Daala stepped up to the viewport and gazed out at the stars. "We will be perfect." She basked in her pride one last time before another doubter, Tethys this time, spoke up again.

"But what about the Jedi?" asked Worfin.

But Tethys was the only one Daala heard. "How can we get there? How can we cut halfway across the galaxy and not be intercepted?"

Daala turned to face him. "That part will be told later today. For now, this Assembly is dismissed. We will reconvene in a few hours."

Warlord Brill still had a thousand questions, as did Tethys, Worfin, Talpoldar, Joffandor and practically every other member of the Assembly, save the women. But they all knew not to question Daala even more after a meeting was finished. That was how Moff Xedwith, a former member of the Assembly, had lost his life.

Daala closed up the wall monitor. She calmly waited as the chamber emptied of its occupants. With an clever nod to Selena, Kuresca, and Terret, Daala proudly followed them to the turbolift and out of the chamber. She would meet with them again soon. But first, she had another woman to talk to concerning Joffandor.


	3. The Inner Circle

Daala crossed her arms under her breasts. "How is the search progressing?"

Governor Highla's humongous ridges, big even for a Neimoidian, dropped low as he frowned. "Not good. We have not found it."

Daala blew air out her mouth. "It shouldn't be this..." she blinked. One whole branch of Highla's grandiose navy had been on the search for months now. "Do you have any leads?"

Highla's ugly face scrunched and un-scrunched, and he mumbled words furiously. The Neimoidian clearly had something to say.

He continued his routine for another few moments before Daala got annoyed enough to stop him. "Yes or no, Governor?"

Glowering at her, he responded. "Be patient, human. I'm not your servant. I'll answer when _I_ want to. No, I don't have a lead really. The smuggler Commander Binjoy interrogated said he did see it briefly but then it vanished into hyperspace. He didn't know where it was going."

Keeping her fury in check, Daala sat back in her chair. "Where did he see it?"

"The Klorpus system. He said that its trajectory was somewhere closer to the edge of the galaxy, possibly the Ssi-Ruuk Star Cluster. Binjoy went to Klorpus, but there's no way he could know where's its going."

Daala scowled. "The Ssi-Ruuk Star Cluster? No, they wouldn't go there. Zonama Sekot is trying to stay away from conflict. I hope your Commander isn't going there."

"My men are doing the best they can," Highla countered. "And Commander Binjoy is one of my best. He will find Zonama Sekot, then commandeer it," he finished, pumping his fist at the monitor.

Daala looked at him quizzically, annoyed beyond belief now. "Have caution, Mindar. A living planet will not be easy to conquer. The Yuuzhan Vong will make that even more difficult. Tell your man to approach the task with _caution_."

Highla nodded.

"Especially with those Chiss patrols," Daala insisted. "Be very careful."

"I have told a thousand times over that Binjoy will," Highla snarled. "What does it take to convince you of that?"

Anger and more annoyance rose inside Daala's beating heart, but her quizzical expression remain unchanged. "I'm sorry," she said, disgusting herself, apologizing to this unworthy _man_. "I know you're men and women trying your best, and being careful." This was unnerving.

"Y-yes," he stuttered uneasily. "We are."

Daala nodded in acknowledgment. "The _Scylla_ is on its way to the station. ETA three standard hours. The next session of the Assembly will be held as soon as we arrive."

Highla's ugly head nodded. "Agreed. I will see you then."

Daala cut the channel straightforward. She snatched her hand back, breathing fast and hard. Turning the chair to look out her personal viewport, Daala let her anger and pride swell up in her as she gazed out at the coldness of space. Finally, it got to be too much. Her teeth gritted, and her lips curled up in a villainous fashion. The Admiral swung her chair around and pounded her small fist onto the tabletop of her desk.

"Men!" she spat. "They always think their superior. I can't wait until I am ruler of this galaxy. 'He will find Zonama Sekot,'" she impersonated Highla. "'Then commandeer it.'" Daala snickered. "And then maybe he'll get himself killed, and take you with him too, if I'm lucky." Her rage was causing her to grunt. "Men...(grunt)...stupid men(grunt)!" She shouted the last word, now heaving in anger. It turned to pain in her heart, the sum of all the anger and fury from the entire day. Everything from Joffandor's bold mocking to Highla's boasting. But Daala knew the consequences of her craze. Desperately, the copper-haired Admiral madly reached under her desk, frantically searching for the black crystal ball hidden there. She panicked as each grab went through only air.

"No!" she cried.

Her grabs got more fierce as her pulse quickened and she could feel her heart pounding against her chest. Her blood flowed at faster-than-light speed, threatening to break her body apart. Her veins jutted out of her skin. Tears of anger filled her eyes. And then joy filled her body and her brain as her hand wrapped around the fist-sized ball. But despair instead ruled her inner body and soul. She tightened her grip on it and whispered fiercely.

"Reapus!"

A pause of deep breathing and despair.

"Reapus!"

Daala swallowed hard. And then, all of a sudden, her rage and fury began to be wisped away by new feeling. It was a mixture of soothing and joyous relief, like medicine attacking and killing a vicious virus. The energy from the crystal ball in her hand rippled its way through her bloodstream, past her heart, and into her soul and essence. The core of her body became cleansed and relieved, with a renewing sense of security and purpose. Daala now felt as if she already ruled the galaxy, and all she could see, or would permit, were women. They were her advisors, her partners, her commanders, her officers, her soldiers. Daala's Dominion had achieved it's creator's goal. She saw a galaxy that knew no fear. All the other kingdoms bowed down to her. Her military crushed any resistance bold enough to face it. No one dared to oppose Daala.

And the men. They were the best part, and they played the best part–the slaves. They toiled in the spice mines of Kessel; they broke their backs in the asteroid field mines; they served the Dominion's highest ruler and governors; the Assembly was now all women. Daala attended entertainment sessions where men were decapitated and/or disemboweled. And she enjoyed it; every minute of it. They were now the sex slaves, the oppressed ones, the Sith spit of the galaxy. They had finally gotten what they deserved.

Only then did Daala realize that her eyes were closed. She breathed easily again, inhaling and exhaling at a calm, steady rate. Her heart beat at a stable pulse, blood flowing naturally in her veins, which had now sunk back into her skin safely. A lock of Daala's copper hair lightly brushed her face, soft to the touch. The Admiral brushed it back and then used that same hand to wipe the salty tears from her eyes. She swallowed again, the taste of her own saliva somehow giving her refreshment.

What she had seen during those moments of relief and joy had been a vision. A vision of the future. Daala's future.

She squeezed the crystal ball in thanks. "Thank you Reapus." Gradually, she released her grip and brought her hand back up towards her.

Satisfaction was the last she thing felt before returning completely to her own senses.

The dark side of the Force was indeed a strong magic.

Daala breathed, her pride giving her strength and confidence. She swivelled her chair back to the monitor and opened a channel to Captain Mash.

"Set a course for the Schuazhar system, Captain. Get all craft back into their hangar decks. Engage as soon as you are ready. Daala out." She cut the channel. Almost soon after, her door chimed.

Daala smiled brightly and sighed. "Finally. Come in," she called. The doors hissed open, and three of Daala's best friends, whom she had just seen about ten minutes ago, entered. Moff Selena, Moff Terret, and Moff Kuresca all came in, bounteous, beautiful, and proud as Daala. They marched in and stood at attention, jokingly.

Daala chuckled. "Please. Sit down, for all our sakes."

The three giggled and grabbed chairs from all corners of Daala's office, pulling them over to the center desk.

"Have you talked to that toad Highla lately," Selena asked.

Daala made a face. "Ugh, just got off a line with him. His man still hasn't found Zonama Sekot yet."

Selena snorted from across the room. "Figures."

Terret, normally silent, spoke in her usual mechanical scratchy voice. Years ago, her vocal cords had been destroyed in a barely-survived scuffle with a rogue Imperial captain. "I told you to send me instead. _I_ would've found it by now. Neimoidians are bumbling idiots."

It was at that moment that a pulsating wave rippled briefly through Daala's office. Outside the viewport, the stars stretched widely, and were soon replaced by a dark blue tube of light. Daala pressed a button on her desk control panel, closing down the blockers to her viewport.

"Yes," Daala answered Terret. "But I need you here to help Kuresca and Selena, and me keep the Assembly in order. Plus I can't afford to spare any ships for a search mission like that."

The comlink opened. "Warlord Brill to Grand Admiral Daala."

Daala glowered and snapped the receiver. "We're going to the Schuazhar system Brill. I know that's what you were about to ask. I'll explain later." She cut the channel, then switched off her desk panel. She would here no more transmissions until she switched the panel back on. Turning her attention back to her friends, she sat up straight. "I believe territory assignment is the topic today–"

Daala stopped when she noticed Kuresca's estranged look. "What?"

The middle-aged Moff licked her thin lips. "Nothing. Its just–you look....different."

The other women swallowed, an accidental gesture. Panicky feelings flooded her body. "Different in what way?" she asked quickly. She knew what Kuresca was noticing.

Obviously taken aback by Daala's reaction to the question, Kuresca looked away for a moment then back at her friend. "Your skin complexion. It seems a little duller than it did at the meeting."

Daala laughed nervously. "You must be seeing things, Daylia." She smiled. "As if I need more insane people right now, what with all those male Moffs."

They all, including Kuresca, exchanged laughs. Out of the corner of her eye, though, Daala saw that Kuresca's eyes still retained a look of doubt and suspicion. The older women wasn't going to yell at her friend for making her feel uncomfortable, but she couldn't risk having her secret be discovered now, so early in the development of her plans. How did she notice so soon?

"Those males are annoying, aren't they?" Selena commented, breaking Daala's attention on Kuresca.

"Severely."

"Which reminds me. Why'd you let Joffandor get away with...with..._insulting_ you like that? I would've shot him."

"I think I got the message through to him though. All that blood must have woken him up a little to my protocols." She shot a quick gaze at Kuresca, looking at her for a brief, acknowledging second. "You were able to get that blood off your hands weren't you, Daylia?"

"Yes."

Daala nodded in satisfaction, still not looking at her. "Good. But Joffandor still has to pay himself, I forgot. Thank you Forge," she finished to Selena. The ex-wife of Wilhuff Tarkin swivelled her chair towards the com panel, switching on the panel as she did. "Grand Admiral Daala–" Sithspawn she hated that manly rank–"to Executor Weylu." Her empty black monitor came to life. The golden-aged, semi-wrinkled face of Military Executor Luka Weylu appeared. Seeing the Executor's semi-old-looking face reminded Daala of Kuresca's observation again. Weylu's bright orange eyes, rare amongst humans, looked awake and alert, as was her attitude often. Daala had come to rely on the women to carry out any military operation, at any location, at anytime. The Executor fit her job well. She was well on her way to a seat on the Assembly. Daala knew she'd eventually have to have one of the Moffs killed for some reason. Most likely, that man would be Joffandor.

"Yes, ma'am?" Weylu said militarily.

Daala thought long and hard about her plans for Joffandor. She smirked when she found a plan of action. "Upload a copy of the book _The Adventures of Star Admiral Galaxy and Cadet Wellington_ for the Imperial database. Take a security team and then go to Moff Joffandor's suite aboard the ship and deliver it to him. Stun his guards that may challenge you." She paused for a moment of amusement and pride. "And then castrate him. Daala out."


	4. What About The Jedi?

_Station DD-7, _orbiting the jungle-covered gem Shuazhar, was an old, outdated maintenance outpost built during Palpatine's resurrection. Daala mainly used it as a retreat during her planning or just to get away from her Dominion and its men. For the last few years, though, she used for a different purpose. Meetings between her and the leaders of her new allies now took place on it. It provided a secluded environment which, though the smell was a little obtrusive, was practically perfect for secret meetings of the kind Daala liked.

Now it looked just as it did last time Daala saw it, as it passed into the conference chamber's view. "A few hours ago, you asked how do we not get caught cutting across the galaxy." Daala gestured to the Neimoidian who was sitting in a chair next to her, who seemed to have been the focus of many of the Moffs. "Answering that question should be simple, and here to do it is Governor Mindar Highla, master and commander of the Confederacy of Independent Systems."

Highla stood up as Daala stepped aside. A murmur rippled throughout the table, except for the three women. They had known Highla as long as Daala had. The rest of the Moffs looked completely confused. The younger Moffs, who had only _heard_ of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, looked somewhere between confused and intrigued by Highla. The older Moffs, who some had been alive when the Confederacy had been formed nearly fifty years ago during the steady downfall of the Old Republic, gave a look of caution and suspicion to the Neimoidian.

One of them, Moff Whrrlyoop, a Wookie and the only non-human of the Assembly, couldn't hide his curiosity and suspicion. He growled a sentence. "The Separatists?" came the translation from the C-3PO protocol droid standing in the corner opposite Daala.

Highla shot Whrrlyoop a glare.

The three-hundred-year-old Whrrlyoop had been on the Republic Senate during the Clone Wars against the Confederacy. He had fiercely supported the Military Creation Act and the Clone army itself. He had fought in three major battles during the Wars and was decorated as a hero by many of the worlds of the Republic, including his own Kashyyyk. When Palpatine overthrew the Republic and established his New Order, most of the peace-preaching Senators, and the Wookie homeworld Kashyyyk, were shocked to find Whrrlyoop fully supporting Palpatine's policies and promises. Many abandoned the Wookie when he, like Palpatine, praised the Ghorman Massacre, the event when then-Captain Tarkin had callously landed his personal starship on top on thousands of anti-tax demonstrators on the planet Ghorman. Hundreds were killed in the Massacre. Later, to show his loyalty to Palpatine, and save his own skin from the Emperors anti-alien policies, Whrrlyoop had been one of the men responsible for turning over Kashyyyk to the Empire and the Wookies to slavery. Ever since the end of Palpatine, the Wookie had remained in hiding in the Deep Core until after Daala murdered Teradoc, in which he appeared again and, after proving himself worthy to Daala by murdering his own traitorous grandson, was promoted to Moff and given the Yergi sector to govern.

"That is not our name, Wookie!" Highla spat.

Whrrlyoop stood up from the other end of the table and snarled loudly at the Neimoidian.

Daala held a flat palm towards the protocol droid, stopping him from translating. She then turned her attention to the Wookie. "No name-calling," she said sternly. "We're all grown ups here."

Whrrlyoop expression darkened, but he nevertheless sat back down.

Daala put a hand on Highla's shoulder, reluctantly. "Easy. Calm down. It won't happen again." She took a step forward. "What Moff Whrrlyoop said was the common name for the Confederacy under the Jedi Count Dooku. It is a name that the Confederacy will not tolerate." She smiled. "Now, Governor Highla will explain phase two of my plan. Governor."

Daala stepped back as Highla stepped forward. The Neimoidian clasped his hands together as he spoke. "My military is battle ready and standing by at the edge of what you call the Unknown Regions. When Admiral Daala's force eliminates the bases at Resad and Wullund, she will continue on towards Kamino. At which time she exits the Core worlds and enters the Colonies Region is the time that military forces under my command will move to strike Alliance fleets and shipyards at Fondor and Chundre. However, it will only be a feint We are hoping that the feint will draw most of the Alliance's attention to my fleet and away from Admiral Daala's armada."

"What about the Jedi

Whrrlyoop, still agitated from Highla, nodded curtly. "Well that's the trick isn't it," he barked as the 3PO droid translated. "Is your fleet up to the job. Or better yet, is it even large enough?"

Highla snickered. "Yes, it is large enough. It could crush your fleet down to a pulp." Whrrlyoop growled a warning as the Neimoidian stepped up to the blank wall monitor. "Right now a majority of it is stationed at my headquarters, waiting for the order to strike," he smiled widely at Daala. His finger pressed a button on the wall panel, and the monitor thrummed to life. A rocky-looking green-gray and blue planet appeared. But its color could barely be determined visually. The world was surrounded by a unbelievably large fleet of granite-gray, triangular capital starships that suspiciously resembled Imperial Star Destroyers. Hundred upon thousands of the wedge-shaped ships were in slow near and far orbits of the distant planet, like an orbital traffic jam. Mixed amongst them was one other type of Star Destroyer-type ship, only it was shaded in a bright gray, like that of an actual Star Destroyer. And it was half-as-large as the as the other ships. The image was frozen in place, showing also tiny starfighters flying drills in almost pocket of space they could find. The fighters were two small to be seen as to their class. It was a mystery fleet, unlike anything the Moff Assembly had ever seen. Except for the designs of those capital ships.

Moff Talpoldar stood up. He was formerly an assistant to Walex Blissex, a former Imperial agent of research and development who defected to the Rebel Alliance early in the Galactic Civil War. Blissex had designed the _Imperial_-class Star Destroyer, and his notes and blueprints had long ago fallen into the hands of Talpoldar. "Those are the old Star Destroyers." His eyes passively fell on Daala. "The predecessors of the _Victory_-class. I recognize them from Blissex's notes. They're old designs. Blissex created them towards the end of the Clone Wars for the Old Republic."

"Yes," Highla answered quickly. "But we stole the designs after we were banished. We planned to return with a force great enough to route the Republic and its clone army."

Whrrlyoop exposed his fangs and gave a low hiss, followed by a short bark. "The Sevven Outpost Crisis." He slammed two angry fists on the tabletop. "One of the most ridiculous political debacles I have ever seen. _You_ caused it?"

Highla chuckled. "Yes. If the Republic had not banished us, it would not have happened."

Inside, Daala rolled her eyes in disgust. They were about to be at it again. She didn't know much about the Sevven Outpost Crisis. It had something to do with a minor star sector that had wanted to ally themselves with the Republic after the Clone Wars. Someway or another, probably by Palpatine's will, the sector ended up with the responsibility of guarding and transporting the blueprints for those primitive Confederacy Star Destroyers. They failed when the prints were stolen by the Confederacy. A distress signal had been transmitted. But no ships, not even a Republic Dreadnaught that was only a few minutes away, answered until two hours after the ship had been raided and destroyed. The Crisis caused a major stir in the Imperial Senate, especially when it was discovered that Vice Chancellor Mas Ammeda had been part of the cover-up. The Vice Chancellor was immediately removed from office by Palpatine. Daala considered the matter unimportant, just another one of the many stepping stone events Palpatine had used to achieve absolute power.

"You can't be sure of your feint's success," Moff Corls said matter-of-fact. "Your ships are pointed out to be primitive."

"Strength in numbers always prevails," Highla answered.

Corls laughed. "That's what a lot of people have said in the past. Maybe in the Unknown Regions, Governor. In the Alliance-ruled galaxy, that strategy is a completely different story. We've tried it dozens of times. It doesn't work."

Highla took three strong steps up to Corls. "Yes, it didn't work for you," Highla responded blandly. "That's because _your _fleets didn't have 976,569 ships in it, did they?"

Corls looked smug. "No."

Highla smiled widely, satisfied. "Do not taunt my navy, human. It can hold its own. It may be primitive, but that does not mean that it is weak." He started back for the monitor. "My fleet can and will do the job, and do the job–" he stopped in mid-stride and mid-sentence. His face was staring at the monitor, lost in a distant world that no else knew or could see. And it worried him. "Well," he finished, speaking the word slowly and with soft terror.

The whole room murmured, all eyes locked, in puzzle and suspicion, on the Neimoidian. The ugly, fleshy-faced alien stood still for only a few moments longer, then quickly went to his seat and sat down, staring at the floor with distant eyes.

Daala scowled at him in her mind. _What is that idiot Neimoidian doing now? Moping? Men are so weak. _She sighed and stamped her foot loudly, drawing the Assembly's attention to her. "We know, Governor, and on behalf of the Assembly, I thank you for your support and your services."

He didn't look up.

Moff Worfin decided to take a chance on the awkward silence. "What about the Jedi?" he asked, almost nervously as if Luke Skywalker was standing in the shadows waiting to strike.

Once again, though, his voice was drowned underneath Tethys's own deep voice. "What base will strike first with our new clone army?"

Daala activated the monitor. Her jabbed a pointer at a spot on the Corellian Run hyperspace lane that encompassed another one of Daala's tags, this time marking Rodia, homeworld of the green-snouted Rodians.

"Hit-and-run strikes on supply bases and refugee camps along the Middle and Outer Rim. The point is to grab the Alliance's attention. Rodia houses a major refugee camp, one of the top three in the Mid-Rim."

"Admiral Daala–" Warlord Brill tried to interrupt.

"Wait until I am finished, Brill," Daala snapped, her rage spiking. "Now," she said quickly, "From Rodia, the fleet will spread out and hit other smaller supply bases and refugee camps using, as I said earlier, hit-and-run tactics. Luckily for us, the Alliance has hundreds of bases practically within walking distance of each other."

"If I may–" Brill started again.

Daala silenced him with a glare, rage building slightly. Then, she calmly said, "You may."

"Why do want to grab the Alliance's attention? I thought that was the Confederacy's job." "Our part is to try and draw attention away from them. Give the Alliance a huge decision of who to go after, us or them."

"But what about the Jedi?" Worfin asked again, slightly louder this time.

Again, he was overshadowed, this time by Joffandor, who was still bleeding slightly and in much pain from his castration, even now. "But Admiral Daala, we're going after refugee's, innocent bystanders, to the Alliance. They'll come after us first, no matter what."

"And what about the bigger bases?" asked Corls. "Shouldn't we focus on those? That would surely grab the Alliance's attention, not that we would want it?"

"Shut up, all of you!" Daala screeched, her rage now rising rapidly. Her face turned red, but she knew she couldn't show her weakness again, especially here. "I have special plans for the major bases, plans I'm not revealing at this time, but I do have them. And they will work." She glared all around the table, looking each Moff and Warlord in the eyes, being as intimidating as she could. "Understand?"

A sturdy "Yes, ma'am" followed from everyone.

"Good."

Worfin stood up strongly. "But what about the Jedi?" he yelled at the top of his lungs. A dead silence followed. "What do we do about them?"


End file.
